The Snow King
by Twin Phases
Summary: When Edmund shattered the White Witch's wand, two small shards of her dark, corrupted winter magic had entered him. Cursed and frozen, Edmund was put to sleep for hundreds and thousands of years in Narnia (around 50 years later in England). When he is awakened, the magical and self-damaging power from the curse forces Edmund to attend Hogwarts, school of witchcraft and wizardry.
1. Prologue: The Curse

Prologue: The Curse

* * *

 **Narnia - Golden Age**

Now that Edmund thought about it, it was all too happy for him back then. He should have certainly doubted that something bad was to inevitably happen. It was always did for him, usually because of his stupidity. But he had been _so_ good. For years, while he ruled Narnia, he had been good and assumed that things weren't to be like as they were. Good fortune follow good deeds. He was wrong, of course. So very sorely wrong.

At the moment, grabbing desperately onto his chest, as his heart started to ache, Edmund could feel thin icy tendrils spreading across his body. He recognized the sensation. He could recognize it any time. However, the pain was immense, and he couldn't properly talk to let his extremely worried siblings know that this was the White Witch, her vengeance.

"Edmund! Edmund!" Lucy called, her red-tinged hair sparkling like amber in the sunlight even as she was looking down at him, fallen on the ground at this point, with tearful eyes. Edmund could only gasp for breath in response.

Peter in the background was frantically yet somehow charismatically ordering the guards to bring in the court physician. Susan was right beside Lucy, her dark brows furrowed so intensely that Edmund worried she would gain a permanent crease. Her hand was on his own tightened fist above his heart, grabbing onto it as if to give whatever strength or remedy she could through so. Edmund noticed that both of his sisters' beautiful garments were now soiled by the muddy ground after last night's heavy rainfall. Internally, he chuckled and sighed at the thought of how he had ended up ruining their morning picnic, only when he had finally joined it, having been too busy until then to attend the event. It was strange. His body was in extreme pain, but his mind was so at ease that he was thinking such things. Perhaps the pain was too much to even be processed by his mind anymore.

Slowly, Edmund's vision began to fail him, its edges darkening. There was a loud roar from afar that sounded very familiar to him, but by the time the roar and the thudding approach neared him, Edmund has lost all connection to what he could see or think. And he fell into a deep slumber.

* * *

 **Narnia - hundreds and thousands of years later**

Edmund opened his eyes to an uneven and dimly lit ceiling of what seemed to be a cave. He was draped with a dark emerald green silky cover, which appeared to be (but he hoped not) a shroud. He tried get up when there was a soft purring noise beside him. Edmund turned his head to find none other than Aslan, the great lion himself, sitting somewhat above where Edmund lied and watching him.

With difficulty and plenty of effort, Edmund pushed himself up, his eyes both wearily and warily on the lion. "Aslan… what happened?" He asked.

The lion's eyes became somber at the question. He let out a steady breath and looked away, flicking his tail while doing so, seemingly habitually as felines do. After minutes of silence, what felt like years to Edmund, the lion finally answered. "You've been cursed."

Unable to hold down his sarcasm, Edmund impatiently replied. "That much was obvious. I mean, what _happened_?"

The great lion turned his gaze back to the young man before him before he sighed. "The White Witch… seemed to have used you to salvage her legacy after her defeat."

"What does that mean?" Edmund asked, confused and also frustrated. Why did it always have to be him?

"It means," the lion patiently remarked, "that small shards of her wand had entered you that day during the battle, and now her hiemal power courses through you."

Edmund could only stare. But by being still, he discovered that he couldn't feel his heart. He quickly placed a hand over his chest, but there was no rhythmic beating one would expect from a heart, just frigid numbness.

"The curse has taken root in your heart. That's where the shards are." Aslan answered the tacit question.

"How am I breathing? How am I alive?" Edmund shouted in disbelief.

The lion gave no answer. His eyes stayed gently on the disoriented man until finally Edmund realised, "Lucy's cordial," to which the lion nodded.

Remembering his little sister's worried face before he lost consciousness, Edmund hastily asked on, "Where's Lucy? And Susan and Peter?"

To Edmund's dread, the lion's eyes darkened with certain sadness. Edmund was already shaking his head in denial before Aslan could even begin to speak what had happened. He could feel that it was not going to be good.

"Young King… when Jadis's curse collided with the life you were given by Queen Lucy's cordial, you were put to sleep. By no one's power could you be awakened, not even mine. Then I placed you here, the Cave of Echoes, where time refuses to flow, where you have remained asleep for… _many_ years."

Your brother and sisters, their time had come. They chose to leave Narnia."

"No, no, no, no, they wouldn't have just left me here alone." Edmund muttered. It seemed that the numbness of his heart had spread to his head. He shook his head weakly. "I know they wouldn't."

Aslan again nodded. "Indeed, King Edmund. They did not leave you. They came back. But... your slumber was to continue."

There was an urge to cry, weep like a baby, if he could, but Edmund found that he couldn't. No tears fell from his eyes. It was as if his inside had become hollow, empty, incapable to carry any touching emotions. "What - why?"

"The curse, though it cannot kill you, corrupts your humanity. The longer it occupies in you the colder and closer to Jadis you'll become. Eventually, her spirit will manifest through you."

"What? How - "

"You must return."

Edmund bit down on his lip, but Aslan continued regardless.

"Once you reenter the world you came from, your body will return to its original form. Essentially, you'll be turning back the time. The curse, along with your body, will return to its primitive stage as well."

The lion then gazed down at Edmund, expectant of some kind of response. Processing Aslan's words, Edmund with a flicker of hope asked. "If, if I'm going back time, will, will I be seeing my brother and sisters?"

Yet, to Edmund's distress, the lion slowly shook his head.

"Even with the gap of time flow between Narnia and your world, the time spent by your curse is too great. The earliest I can send you back is 50 years after the moment you've left your world."

"50 years?"

Something akin to anger began to boil inside Edmund, but before he could fully process the feeling, his chest erupted in great pain, his face scrunching instantly and his breaths quickening. He looked up where the great lion sat, even more confused and frustrated, desperately wanting an answer.

Aslan grimly responded. "Even when your humanity is strengthened enough to break through, the curse will bind it down. If it ever overcomes the curse, that is, if you're ever able to express how you truly feel, it will shred your heart to pieces and will surely kill you."

Learning this, Edmund gritted his teeth, trying to calm himself. "And what of its cure? How can I cure this curse?"

The lion answered readily but slowly. "The only way is to get rid of those shards…"

"But?" Edmund asked with dread. He sensed that this conversation would not end the way he would like it to.

"I'm afraid they are embedded too deeply in your heart." Sighed the lion.

Edmund dropped his head low, his eyes set on his pale fingers. "So I'm doomed."

The lion purred as he descended from where he sat. He nudged Edmund gingerly with his head. "Do not despair yet, young king. Once you return to your world and you become younger yet, you will have time to search a way to get those cursed shards out of you. And I have found a place that can aid you in doing so."

"Where?" Edmund asked, once again a little hopeful.

"There's a school that teaches witchcraft and wizardry. A good man I once knew leads it."

"Wait, there's a school for _witches_? Like Jadis?"

"Yes, witches and also wizards, but no, not like Jadis. You should know that they are just young people who were born with ability to perform magical deeds and are learning to refine that ability."

That brought several thoughts to the young and wise king. Nevertheless, Aslan did not wait too long for those thoughts to pass. Instead, he gestured toward a big crack between the two protruded cave walls. Impossibly, as all usually was around the lion, light began to slip through the crack and shone on Edmund's face.

"Enter through here, and you'll find yourself where you need to be." Said the lion calmly with a hint of affection.

Edmund swallowed a big breath in determination. If things were to flow such way inevitably, then he would sail with it the best way he could. He glanced once more at the lion before he stepped into the blinding light now pouring out of the crack.

* * *

 **A/N: Of course, I do not own anything beside this new plot... and the Cave of Echoes thing. I'm aware there was no such thing in Narnia, but I had to come up with something to keep the story make sense. I don't know if you've noticed, but this was inspired by Hans Christian Andersen's** _The Snow Queen_ **.**


	2. Chapter 1: Silver Crowned

Chapter 1: Silver Crowned

* * *

 **London, England - 1990**

Edmund stood on a bridge. It was night, apparently, and no one seemed to be around. He could tell from the tall and bright buildings that things have indeed changed over the 50 years. Or at least it seemed that all the buildings that were once ruined from the "blitz" as the newspapers called it have been rebuilt. Roads were smoothed, no more craters or broken pieces lying about, and there was peaceful calm as only the sound of the river flowing beneath the bridge could be heard. Edmund looked behind him only to discover that the entrance he had come through had disappeared. There was but a great oak tree.

"I planted that tree the day I was asked to look after you." Said a voice.

Quickly Edmund looked forward again. There was a man, seemingly ancient considering the length of his beard, wearing a long embroidered robe and a hat with a matching embroidery. He wore small semi-circular glasses, and a small and gentle smile graced his lips. Edmund pursed his own lips, unsure. "Does everyone dress as yourself nowadays?"

The old man chuckled and bowed slightly. "Albus Dumbledore, Your Majesty."

Edmund nodded stiffly.

Noticing his reaction, Dumbledore, with softened looks in his eyes, continued. "All your questions will be answered in due time, Your Majesty." He smiled once more. "But let us depart for the moment. We'll have time to discuss matters in a more comfortable setting. Now, if you'll just take my arm."

His brow raised in unsettled suspicion, Edmund, with much hesitation, took the old man's arm as was suggested. And as soon as his hand rested on the arm, the world around him began to twirl around. In seconds, he was standing in front of a gate that led to a rather large red house. He couldn't say he was feeling too well. The trip, evidently magical, had felt like everything inside him was jumbled the wrong way. Regardless of Edmund's bewilderment, the man called Dumbledore walked steadily ahead until he reached the black front door and knocked on it.

"Open up, Slughorn!"

* * *

 **London, Train Station, Platform 9 ¾ - 1991**

The platform bustled with both young and old, incoming students, returning students, parents and other family members bidding farewell. It seemed that the only student to be on the platform alone was Edmund Pevensie, the Just King of Narnia, Duke of Lantern Waste, Count of the Western March, Knight of the Noble Order of the Table, and now a novice wizard. Despite returning to his 11 year old self, wearing a strange set of uniforms, which honestly was not too far away from the attires he had experienced back in Narnia, Edmund did not feel entirely out of place. A bit bitter, perhaps, but not strange. As he straightened his robe _again_ , his fingers came across the outline of his wand in his inner pocket. He remembered the night he received it from the man soon to be his headmaster.

" _This is a wand specially crafted from the remnants of Jadis's wand crystals. It was entrusted to me to give to you."_

 _Dumbledore said, pulling out a white wooden stick embedded with small crystal pieces and handing it forward to Edmund, soon after they entered the house apparently owned by one named Horace Slughorn. The very man was standing near the two, not quite comfortable with the situation and simply watching the two's exchange._

 _Seeing the protest forming in Edmund, who could not believe that he was to wield the source of his curse, Dumbledore continued quickly yet calmly on. "The wand will help you control the White Witch's magic."_

 _That quieted Edmund. After one last doubtful yet determined gaze up at Dumbledore, he reached for the wand. When his fingers had finally curled around it, a great white light shone out from the crystal pieces on the wand. The light shot out across the room and instantly brought its temperature down to frigidness. Edmund struggled to keep his hand on the wand and maintain control over it. He didn't know how, but he knew that it was what he must do as he could feel the magic wildly bucking in his grasp. For minutes that felt as hours, he held on to it until finally it relented and yielded its power to him, the blinding light diminishing and the crystals losing their luster, becoming dull and opaque._

 _As Slughorn stammered nervously with shock, Dumbledore smiled easily and nodded proudly. "Well done, Your Majesty. Now your new reign has begun."_

At the reminder of what the wand was made out of, Edmund grunted and let go of his robe. 'Why isn't he coming?' He thought frustratedly. Per Dumbledore's request, or 'order' as Edmund saw it, Horace provided Edmund food, lodging, and appropriate education regarding the wizarding culture. However, Horace did not want to show face at the train station for some suspicious reason, which Dumbledore accepted, making the situation even more suspicious, and, accordingly, the headmaster suggested an alternate guide to Hogwarts for Edmund to meet at the station. He was to show up before the train leaves, but, at this rate, Edmund feared that he would have to start discovering Hogwarts all by himself.

Just then, a giant man wearing a worn brown coat, with long, untamed hair and beard, lumbered forward. As every little child near them stared, he stopped in front of Edmund and collected his short breaths. "S, sorry, I had another business going." Before Edmund could muster a response to him, the man stuck his hand out in front of Edmund's face. "Rubeus Hagrid."

Fighting the urge to scowl, Edmund slowly accepted the hand and shook it cautiously. "Edmund Pevensie."

The man now identified as Hagrid did not seem to notice the hesitance at all as he hastily proceeded to rummage through his coat pockets. "I reckon you're waiting for these." He said as he finally pulled out a seemingly heavily weighted leather pouch and a piece of golden paper. He held the pouch to Edmund first. Edmund opened it to find it filled with golden coins. "Dumbledore's told me you'll need those. And…" Hagrid then handed the paper. It was written 'LONDON to HOGWARTS for ONE WAY travel'. "You'll need that too, I believe." Hagrid finished his sentence.

Edmund offered a small, unimpressed smile. "I believe so, as well." He took the ticket and nodded. "Much thanks, Mr. Hagrid."

"Oh, please! Just Hagrid's fine, You, uh," Hagrid paused and then stooping down, whispered, "Your Majesty."

Edmund sighed. He understood the need of secrecy regarding his royal background, but if the secret was to be kept in such an uncouth manner every time, perhaps it was better that it be not kept at all. Edmund looked up at the man before him and shook his head, echoing the other man's words earlier. "Just Edmund's fine."

"Ah, sure, sure," Hagrid began, but his voice began to falter nervously, "Ed, Ed, Edm-, urm, I gotta go." Then giving what seemed to be a discreet salute, the man once more lumbered away from the site.

Watching the retreating form, Edmund shook his head again and then took a final look around the platform. Many of the students have, by this time, boarded the train, and the platform was quite devoid of its earlier excitement. Concerned with the availability of seats, Edmund somewhat hastily pocketed the pouch and the ticket and quickly stepped into one of the carriages.

* * *

 **Hogwarts - 1991**

Hours later, the train pulled into an outdoor station, blowing its whistle as it did. The ride itself was not very eventful, at least positively, for Edmund. In the end, he had acquired a seat with a constantly scared looking boy who kept trembling and a bushy-haired girl who could not stop talking about the book about Hogwarts's history she had read. Then there was the whole occasion of the boy losing his toad. It was a tiresome company to keep, for sure.

Edmund swiftly exited his carriage as Hagrid approached, walking along the side aisle, with a lantern. Other students had begun to pour out of the train as well. "Right, then! First years! This way, please! Come on, now, don't be shy! Come on now, hurry up!" He shouted, leading them all to a vast body of water.

A number of boats could be found, and one by one, the students were placed in a boat or another. The boats then sailed themselves across the lake where up ahead a magnificent stone castle could be seen. Many younger students could not close their mouths agape with awe at the beauty of the castle. Edmund, who had seen better of it, including the one and only Cair Paravel, only focused on what was ahead of him, his ultimate goal of breaking the curse. The only way to break it, or cure him of it, was to remove the shards out of his heart. Aslan had said that such feat would be impossible to accomplish without Edmund killing himself. Nevertheless, Aslan had sent Edmund to this school of wizardry for a reason. Edmund believed it to be finding a magical way to get the shards out. After all, if there was anything on earth that could remove the shards, it would be magic, wouldn't it?

Once they all reached the castle, the first year students were led up the stairs where on the higher level stood an elderly woman stood waiting. It was Minerva, Edmund recognized, or Professor McGonagall, as she preferred to be called at school. He was introduced to her before by Dumbledore. As usual, she kept an impressive appearance of a witch, exactly as muggles would imagine. The black pointy hat and a long, forest green robe certainly worked well together to build a prudent and charismatic aura. The woman rapped her fingers on the stone railing and then when she thought all first year students had gathered went to the top of the stairs.

"Welcome to Hogwarts." She greeted. "Now, in a few moments, you will pass through these doors and join your classmates. But before you can take your seats you must be sorted into your houses. They are Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin. Now, while you are here, your house will be like your family. Your triumphs will earn you house points. Any rule breaking, and you will lose points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup-"

"Trevor!" Cutting through Minerva's words, a familiar voice shouted. It was the boy from his carriage, the scared one that had lost his toad. It seemed that he had lost it once again. After grabbing the toad that had been climbing up the stairs, the boy stammered a fidgety apology and backed away. Minerva scoffed contemptuously before continuing. "The sorting ceremony will begin momentarily." She then tensely left the hall the students were gathered.

As if on cue, a boy with a mean voice spoke up. "It's true then, what they're saying on the train. Harry Potter has come to Hogwarts." Some students began to whisper among themselves, 'Harry Potter?' Edmund glanced the way of the speaker. The boy had a very pale blonde hair which he had slicked back with something quite glossy. He had a seemingly perpetual smirk on his face as he continued, pointing at his bigger and somewhat stupider looking boys. "This is Crabbe, and Goyle, and I'm Malfoy... Draco Malfoy."

 _Draco_? Edmund thought just as someone in the crowd let out a snicker. The Malfoy boy immediately looked the way where the sound came from with eyes ablaze. "Think my name's funny, do you?" Edmund caught a glimpse of the source of the snicker. He was standing next to the boy who was supposedly Harry Potter. "No need to ask yours. Red hair, and a hand me down robe? You must be a Weasley." There was so much disdain and superiority in Malfoy's voice, Edmund was nearly astounded. He might as well have been if it weren't for the curse. The said boy then turned to the Boy Who Lived, about whom Edmund himself had heard and read enough for the past year. "We'll soon find that some wizarding families are better than others, Potter. Don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort." Malfoy extended his hand toward the other boy. "I can help you there."

Harry Potter responded as how Edmund imagined his brother Peter would have. Bravely and defiantly. "I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks."

Edmund smiled slightly at this, but soon his smile melted into a frown. There was a dull thud somewhere, something like grief, if Edmund should guess. He missed his brother and sisters so much. While staying with Horace, he searched for his siblings' whereabouts, only to discover that they had all passed away some time ago. Peter and Lucy had died from a train wreck, which supposedly took the life of his cousin Eustace as well, and Susan... Susan had committed suicide from despair when she was placed in a mental asylum. The record he could find stated that she suffered from depression as she had an extreme fear of aging. When Edmund had discovered all this, he had another collapse from an extreme heart ache. The grief had ripped through the curse as his wrath did the day Edmund woke up in the cave.

But while his mind collected such thoughts, Minerva had come back. "We're ready for you now." She said.

She led the group through two large doors, into a strikingly beautiful hall where there were four long tables with the other older students seated around, as well as floating candles above them. The roof appeared to be the sky itself as it sparkled with stars. Somewhere near him, the girl who talked too much, Hermione Granger, if he remembered correctly, whispered. "It's not real, the ceiling. It's just bewitched to look like the night sky. I read about it in _Hogwarts: A History_." _Of course you did_ , thought Edmund.

The aged woman leading them then halted. "All right, will you wait along here, please?" She then busied herself by organizing the students into a line, looking at the scroll she held now and then to make sure. Afterwards, she proudly stated. "Now, before we begin, Professor Dumbledore would like to say a few words."

A familiar old man rose from the main table at the front of the hall. He began to speak with an amiable voice. "I have a few start of term notices I wish to announce. The first years please note that the dark forest is strictly forbidden to all students. Also, our caretaker, Mr. Filch," the headmaster signaled to a ragged old man with a red-eyed cat at the back of the hall, "has asked me to remind you that the third floor corridor on the right hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a most painful death. Thank you."

There was a sound akin to a nervous gulp behind Edmund. He himself only shook his head at the old man's antics. He knew the old man probably kept something secretive he did not desire his students to see or experience, but despite the way he had phrased the threat, Dumbledore could not hide the twinkle in his eyes. For Edmund, it only made him unnecessarily curious.

Then Minerva, now standing in front of the main table beside a small stool, holding a worn pointy hat, spoke up again. "When I call your name, you will come forth, I shall place the sorting hat on your head, and you will be sorted into your houses." The hat was, of course, a talking hat.

"Abbott, Hannah!" She called.

A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of line, put on the hat, which fell right down over her eyes, and sat down. After a moment's pause -

"HUFFLEPUFF!" Shouted the hat.

The table on the right cheered and clapped as the Abbott girl went to sit down at the Hufflepuff table.

And so on, the sorting went, alphabetically. Edmund watched as different boys and girls were sorted into one of the four houses. He could somehow foretell who would go to which house, although sometimes he would mess up who would go to Hufflepuff or Gryffindor.

"Granger, Hermione!" Minerva called a bit later, and the same chatty, bushy-haired girl popped out of the line. With oozing confidence she sat down and put on the hat. The sorting hat mumbled a bit before it shouted "GRYFFINDOR!" In reaction, the table on the far left erupted with cheers.

On and on the sorting went. To Edmund's surprise, the Longbottom boy, whom he thought very little in terms of bravery, was sorted into Gryffindor. The boy himself seemed to be in bewilderment by the hat's choice as he walked toward the table on the left. Draco Malfoy, on the other hand, was sorted into Slytherin even before the hat could land on his little blonde head. So fast was the sorting, faster than anyone else, that Edmund could not help but raise a brow.

Then finally called Minerva, a mysterious curve gracing her lips, "Pevensie, Edmund!"

Edmund climbed up the stage, as he saw it, and sat down as the hat landed on his head, covering his eyes.

 _Hmm, what do we have here now? Edmund Pevensie the Just King! I dare say, welcome to Hogwarts, Your Majesty._

Edmund said nothing.

 _Ah, I see. Not the most pleasant circumstances, I understand. But as I must sort you, if you could..._

At that, Edmund scoffed. As disturbing as the idea of a talking hat reading through his mind, looking into his memories, was, he knew he did not have a choice. It was near hilarious that a _hat_ cared for decorum. He would have laughed out loud if he still could.

 _My apologies. Then, let's see... yes, you're very intelligent, indeed. And brave, considering how you thought to fight Jadis to save your brother. You have also been very loyal. Your past mistake mended, I see. But... ah, the curse. The curse, my king, it has stopped the beating of your heart. It's now as cold as ice, unforgiving and selfish._

'I need to find a way to break the curse. Put me where I could be of some good.' Edmund thought.

 _Hmm, if that's the case..._

"SLYTHERIN!" The hat declared.

There was a pause of silence in the hall, as Edmund's sorting had taken a lot longer than others and all who thought him to be a muggle-born wizard never guessed that he would be placed in the house of snakes. Slowly, one by one, the people from the Slytherin table began to clap, not so enthusiastically but in a struggling way as if the sorting was their embarrassment but they wished to keep their dignity by facing it with elegance of sort. Edmund caught a glance of Minerva sharing a bit troubled look with Dumbledore. He hoped they were not concerned with his character now. He wished he could assure them to not worry about it, but, in truth, he himself could not be sure whether he would fare well and last long here. Not only because of the house, but because he could feel the curse growing stronger every night.

He sat beside the Malfoy boy from earlier who gave him a doubtful glance.

Deciding to be the adult of the two, Edmund extended his hand to Malfoy as the boy had done to Harry Potter. "Edmund Pevensie."

Surprised by Edmund's sudden approach, Malfoy accidentally accepted the hand and mumbled out, "Draco, Draco Malfoy."

"Pleasure." Remarked Edmund. Turning back to watch the rest of the sorting. He could feel the stares from his new housemates, both curious and doubtful as was Malfoy. He heard whispers such as 'Pevensie? Never heard of it' or 'why did the hat take so long to sort _him_?' On the side, he sensed some nearly imperceptible movements and whispered argument. He could not distinguish the words clearly, but he caught the word "mudblood" in between. When he was just about to shut them up, there was a tap on his shoulder. Turning around, Edmund found Malfoy smiling quite genuinely compared to his previous smirks. Behind him, the two bigger boys, Crabbe and Goyle, glared at Edmund, clearly displeased with the conclusion of their argument.

"You're one of us now. Welcome to Slytherin, Pevensie." He said.

* * *

 **A/N: Per usual, disclaimer. I do not own anything besides the new plot.**

 **I have written Hagrid's speech in a standardized way because I'm not familiar enough with his dialect to write it. I hope you understand.**

 **Also, you'll notice that some parts of the chapter is exactly the same as the movie or the book. This is because I did copy those parts. I hope you don't mind that either. I wanted to keep my timeline steady with the movies but I also wanted to have pretty accurate details.**

 **If you could please leave a review to discuss anything you find I can make better, that would be appreciated.**


	3. Chapter 2: Fair Raven

Chapter 2: Fair Raven

* * *

 **Hogwarts - Fall 1992**

A strange boy his housemate was, Draco thought as he sat in the shaking coach of the train hurtling toward Hogwarts once again for another year. And what a year he had just spent with one Edmund Pevensie. The boy in Draco's concern was sitting in front of him and was watching something far out the window, his expression blank. Draco recalled the peculiar times he shared with Edmund.

...

 _It was a potion class. The room was yet to be occupied by an instructor, and the students' nervous chatter filled the room. Draco had seated himself beside Pevensie as he could not trust Crabbe or Goyle. It was rather difficult with the two of them constantly caviling about the other boy's lineage. But, in all honesty, Draco would rather be seen with the Pevensie boy than the likes of Weasley, and admittedly Crabbe and Goyle. Looking at the three young pure bloods, Draco sometimes wondered whether it was true that all those inbreeding's over time had indeed caused some defects in the family._

 _Edmund Pevensie, the_ mudblood _, or as Draco trained himself to use (only) in front of the said boy, muggle-born, was not bad to look at. Not bad at all. His hair was the colour of raven, a bit of teal glistening every right moment the sun hit, his eyes of matching shade, and his light-skinned face was as smooth and flawless as fine china. Or so heard Draco from the girls who had been enamoured by the boy, and he could recognize that there actually was some charm. Compared to the red-headed, freckled oaf and his two big, idiotic oafs, Edmund Pevensie was certainly a more desirable companion to be seen together with. Draco glanced his partner's way and internally nodded. Indeed, he was better. In fact, he knew that among the female students in Hogwarts, the two of them together were favoured much._

 _At first, Draco had his doubts and regrets about accepting the muggle-born's hand, but his dignity had forced him to adapt, to appear as if he had not made a mistake. Thus was his first intention in making "friends" with the boy. When he had reported to his father, Draco had readied himself to be chastised, but instead his father was pleased to hear that Draco had refined the reputation of the family. Apparently, other students had noticed the unlikely alliance, and one of the Ministry members' children spread the word. Words traveled fast, and Draco was eager to continue pleasing his father._

 _Just as these thoughts passed through Draco's mind, the door slammed open, and the potions professor and also the head of his beloved house, Slytherin, Severus Snape walked in, briskly and extremely unhappily, as the man always seemed to be. He grabbed the wand a nearby student had been waving flippantly and aimed it at the student with deeply furrowed brows._

 _"_ _There will be no foolish wand waving or silly incantations in this class."_

 _The man then, with utter distaste, threw the wand back at the now trembling Gryffindor boy, so unkindly that the boy ended up hiccuping. Several Slytherin fellows snickered, including Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle. Pevensie, however, seemed absolutely unamused. His lips stayed a tight straight line as he eyed the man warily._

 _"As I've said," Snape began, "I don't expect many of you to enjoy the subtle science and exact art that is potion making. But again, for those select few," Snape said as he looked toward Draco with a faint smile, "who possess the predisposition, I cant teach you how to bewitch the mind and ensare the sense. I can tell you how to bottle fame, brew glory and even put a stopper... in death." Here, the professor paused with deadly seriousness, to which Draco could not help but raise his brow. Regardless, Snape was now looking at another student, his eyes aflame with ire. It was Harry Potter, the new darling of Gryffindor, who was scribbling rather busily on his parchment at the moment. Snape growled out. "Then again, maybe some of you have come to Hogwarts in possession of abilities so formidable that you feel confidant enough to not...pay...attention."_

 _Draco spotted a brown-haired girl elbowing the oblivious boy in the ribs, startling him to look up. His eyes, not quite fearful as his first day in Snape's class, still wavered as his face changed shapes in poorly concealed irritation._

 _"Mr. Potter. Our...new...celebrity." Said Snape with lips that twitched, struggling to keep either a smile or a scowl out of place. "Tell me, what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"_

 _Of course, the browned-hair girl, a_ mudblood _, as she always did, shot her hands up in eagerness. It was pity, really, for a supposedly clever girl, she seemed unable to graspt the fact that Snape would never call on her._ _Harry Potter, on the other hand, simply shrugged._

 _Snape, completely ignoring the other girl, continued. "You don't know? Well, let's try again. Where, Mr. Potter, would you look if I asked you to find me a bezoar?"_

 _The girl's hand was up again, but this time, Potter remembered that he had a mouth. "_ _I don't know, Sir."_

 _Yet Snape was not finished. "And what is the difference between Monkshood and Wolfbane?"_

 _"I don't know, Sir." Answered Potter again._

 _Then Snape, with his face of feigned sympathy, gave his near signature remark. "Pity. Clearly, fame isn't everything, is it, Mr. Potter?"_

 _Except Pevensie, all Slytherin kids began to snicker. Draco watched as Pevensie grimaced. Somehow the air felt a little colder, but before Draco could process what was happening beside him, Snape barked out his final order. "5 points from Griffyndor for incompetency. Now open up your books to page 45!"_

...

Then there was the flying lesson Draco tried to be nice and teach the mud-, the muggle-born how to fly with a broom. _No, thank you_ , was all the boy had said. It was also the day Draco decided to be mean, since being nice did not work, and threw the Longbottom kid's little toy away. All of them that had been there were sure that Potter, who flew after the toy, breaking the rules, was going to be punished. Except Edmund. He was the only one who said to the laughing Slytherin students, as if it was quite obvious, that Potter "would likely get a broom than detention."

And he was right. That Potter was very soon made the youngest Seeker in Hogwarts history, and the week after he was given the newest, fastest broom, Nimbus 2000, from an anonymous sender.

...

 _"What?!" Exclaimed Draco from his table as he looked at Harry Bloody Potter unpacking and discovering the Nimbus 2000. Crabbe and Goyle also glowered toward Potter's table, as the only thing they had learned to do by then was to mimic and please the Malfoy heir. Pansy Parkinson on his left made an exasperated noise._

 _"Who would send an orphan_ Nimbus 2000 _?" She exclaimed. "I mean, first of all, why isn't he in detention for flying against the rules?"_

 _Draco looked at Pevensie then, his eyes widened with realisation that his housemate had been right. "How did you know?"_

 _To Draco's question, other Slytherins looked Pevensie's way as well, their eyes trained on the boy, expectant. Edmund himself, who had been eating a cold slice of ham with his fork and knife, bore a disinterested look. He answered as he continued to pick at his food. "Well, isn't it obvious? Harry Potter's the child of light. He's supposed to be the_ good _. Dumbledore or Miner- McGonagall will choose to coddle him until he's ready to fight against the true evil."_

 _Throughout Pevensie's analysis, Draco's mouth was open with inspiration, but he raised his brow at the last two words. "True evil?" Then he remembered how the good standing of his family had once been turnished._ The Dark Lord _, he thought. In half a second, he was asking, "Who?"_

 _The boy stilled. It was a very short moment, but there was a deep thought and hesitation before Pevensie simply remarked. "We'll see, won't we?" Then he just continued. "But I'm quite disappointed myself. I did not expect such an unjust behaviour, or attitude, from... Well, from them." He glanced up at Professor McGonagall who was looking down at Potter with a satisfied smile._

 _Pansy followed the gaze and discovered the old woman's smile as well, causing her to gasp in angry shock. "Ha!_ She _bought that bloody broom for Potter! Unbelievable. This is unfair!"_

 _"No, unfair, indeed." Said Pevensie, surprising everyone as he rarely, or never, agreed with Pansy. Or, in fact, Crabbe or Goyle, who happened to be astonished by Pevensie at the moment. They grunted with new and hastily forged camaraderie. "We gotta do something."_

 _Draco eyed the two oafs' quick change of attitude with amusement. As he turned his head to look at Pevensie, he found a similar look of amusement as well. It was barely noticeable, but the boy's lips were ever so slightly curved upward. At that, Draco felt a small sting in his heart. He wasn't sure why but he was a bit irritated that the never smiling Edmund Pevensie's first near smile resulted from the two dolts' antics. It was probably his competitive nature._

 _The said Pevensie's smile was gone swiftly, however, as the boy faintly shook his head. "No," he said, "if you're wise, you're going to leave Harry Potter absolutely alone."_

 _"What? Why?" Complained both Pansy and the other boys._

 _Pevensie patiently answered in an unnervingly calm voice. "Because whether we interfere or not, Harry Potter's going to cause trouble. Repeat it as much, he and whoever his cronies are will eventually lose enough points for their house. But put us in the equation. Say, McGonagall finds you," he pointed at Crabbe and Goyle with his fork, "with Potter past curfew, what do you imagine will happen?"_

 _As realisation dawned on him, Draco muttered out, loud enough for all of them at the table to hear. "She'll think it's us."_

 _It was then Edmund Pevensie finally lifted his head to look at Draco with a smirk-like smile that Draco had never seen before. It was as if he were saying, 'now you're getting it.' It was so unexpected that Draco had forgotten to breathe for a second. The satisfaction he felt from receiving that approving smile, albeit small, rivaled that he received upon his father's approval. So terribly embarrassed was Draco by this that he immediately contorted his face in pretense of extreme anger. "We're the_ bad _."_

 _"Exactly." Said Pevensie, as he now sipped his tea. Draco noticed that there was no steam from the tea cup. It was chilled. He quirked his head a little in confusion. Who drank tea cold?_

 _"So what? We just wait, do nothing?" Pansy asked shrilly._

 _Pevensie sighed, placing his cup down on the matching saucer. "Yes. The injustice will continue, I'm afraid." He looked up. "You could perhaps depend on Snape to avenge it for you."_

 _Pansy and the others grumbled. "Ugh, Potter's better be ready for it in Potions."_

 _Later, after that morning, as he was walking back to the Slytherin's dungeon with Pevensie, Draco asked. "Is there really nothing we can do to get back at Potter?"_

 _Pausing his steps, Pevensie held his gaze on Draco for a moment. Draco had to spend much effort in trying not to swallow hard in anxiety. There lied in Pevensie's eyes something dangerous. The dark orbs intensely gazed into his grey ones, calculations and decisions passing through. Finally, Pevensie answered. "There is."_

 _"Uh, then why didn't you tell Pansy and all?" Asked Draco as he struggled to free himself from an involuntary daze._

 _"Because even if I told them, as subtle as they are, they wouldn't be able to execute it. But..." Pevensie glanced slyly toward Draco. "_ We _can."_

 _The exclusivity was an instant thrill for Draco. A big, uncontainable smirk spread across his face. "Well," he said, attempting to control his excitement, "Pevensie, I'm in."_

 _"It's Edmund."_

 _Draco looked at him blankly. "What?"_

 _The other boy gave a small frown-like smile. Draco could not decide whether he was upset or amused. Perhaps both?_

 _"You... should call me Edmund."_

 _That very moment, Draco saw something he could not quite explain with his 11 years of experience. It was something like sadness but not entirely. Maybe longing? He wasn't sure, but he wanted to get rid of it. So, when his mouth opened and he blurted out the things he did, Draco could not stop himself._

 _"Then you should call me Draco."_

 _And it made the small smile less like frown, and Draco did not regret his words._

...

The plan was to first aggravate Potter wherever he was unprotected whenever they could. This would establish Draco and his house as Potter's, and at large, Griffyndor's, enemy. Well, Draco thought, that was already established, wasn't it? But Edmund had pointed out that it was vital to actually accomplish this before moving on to the second part of the plan, which was to befriend Potter's soon-to-be best friend, Hermione Granger. Draco had scoffed when he first heard this. At that point, it was clear that both Potter and Weasley detested the book snob, but Edmund was adamant that the Granger girl would become a trio with the two Griffyndor boys.

So Draco did his best to taunt Potter whenever he could and there weren't anyone, especially Professor McGonagall, to protect him (this excluded Weasley since the red-haired dullard seemed incapable of any stepping up). This left Potter and Weasley seething at the end of every encounter with Draco's groups. On Halloween, the second part of the plan was finally executed.

...

 _Their tiny professor of charms, Professor Flitwick, stood on top of a book pile in front of the class. He held a wand in his hand with his right hand as he shaped his mustache with the left. "One of a wizard's most rudimentary skills is leviation, the ability to make objects fly. Uh, do you all have your feathers?" He looked around. "Good. Now, uh, don't forget the nice wrist movement we've been practicing, hmm? The swish and flick, everyone" he motioned with his wand had as he explained, "The Swish and flick. Good" He said as he looked around again while the students copied his wand motion. "And enunciate," he added, "Wingardium Leviosa. Off you go then."_

 _Everybody instantly dove into practicing, and the room was filled with murmur and some occasional noises of wand hitting wrong places._

 _"Wingardium Levio-saaa." Draco tried. But his feather did not move an inch._

 _He heard a gasp from his back, and he turned around to find Pansy looking next to him. Following her amazed gaze, Draco found Edmund's feather flowing easily off the desk and up the ceiling. "Whoa, how did you do that?"_

 _"Enunciation. It's Wingardium LeviOsa, not LevioSA."_

 _Just as Edmund answered, Professor Flitwick, spotting the floating feather, exclaimed happily. "Oh, well done! See here, everyone! Mr. Pevensie's done it! Oh, splendid!"_

 _The students in the room all turned and looked at the floating feather with awe. Some looked unhappy, mainly the Griffyndor girl, who presumably desired to be the first to accomplish it. She made a face at the Weasley boy next to her. It seemed that she had lost her chance to shine first because she was trying to help him. Draco nudged Edmund and nodded toward them. There was an argument brewing._

 _"Stop, stop, stop! You're going to take someone's eye out. Besides, I've told you. You're saying it wrong. It's LeviOsa, not LevioSAR." The Granger girl commented loud enough to be heard by Draco and Edmund across the room._

 _Ron Weasley, disgruntled, crossed his arms and equally loudly said, "You do it then if you're so clever. Go on, go on."_

 _The Griffyndor girl stole a glance toward Edmund before she determinedly straightened her back, swished her wand around, and crisply recited, "Wingardium Leviosa." Not to Draco nor Edmund's surprise, the feather began to float successfully._

 _After the class, Draco and Edmund discreetly followed Harry Potter's group from a distance. As they all entered the courtyard, Weasley began to speak in an overly feminine, yet familiar tone of voice. "_ It's Leviosa, not Leviosar. _Honestly, she's a nightmare. No wonder she hasn't got any friends!" Only, the boy, unlike the two Slytherin boys who were behind them, did not see that the same girl he was making fun of was in an audible distance. Tears welled up in her eyes, and holding tightly onto her big books, the girl bustled past them, befuddling the group._

 _"I think she heard you," commented Potter._

 _Draco and Edmund looked at each other. "It's time." Said Edmund._

...

That night, a troll somehow entered through the dungeon and put the entire school in panic. Of course, excepting Draco and presumably Edmund, with whom Draco had separated before dinner so that Edmund could meet Granger, all according to the plan. Edmund had come back after the troll was neutralized, not at all perturbed by the supposed attack. He only simply thought for a while before he commented, _someone's trying_. He wouldn't say anything else to Draco's question, _Who's trying what?_

When asked about the success of his mission, Edmund explained that it had gone well. He was able to successfully convince the Griffyndor girl that he was not a "bad" person and give the impression that he was a muggle-born poorly sorted into the house of snakes. After that night, as Edmund had predicted, the girl was somehow part of the trio with Potter and Weasley. And that was that.

The rest of the year went by fast and uneventfully. For Draco, at least. There was a quidditch game, which naturally ended with Potter winning the game for his house by swallowing the snitch. There was also a big incident in which Potter, Longbottom, and Granger lost 150 points for Gryffindor. It was a brief time of celebration. Pansy was especially exhilarated. She even became a little fond of Edmund in that he saw their eventual downfall. They were shunned even by their own house, and it was a delightful experience to watch. Yet, as was said, the victory was short-lived. At the end of the second term, the house cup was, for the seventh time, to be Slytherin's again. However, Dumbledore, with some unacceptable excused treated Griffyndor with a total of 170 additional points. The house cup was lost. It was rumoured for a long while that Harry Potter had fought Professor Quirrell, who happened to be secretly a Death Eater, in a secret dungeon below Hogwarts. Then summer came, and that was that.

Summer had come and gone, and now they were all here on the train once again. But things were going to be better, Draco felt it. He would get into the quidditch team as a seeker and bring Potter down in one way as Edmund would in another. Grinning at the thought, Draco took his eyes off of the boy in front of him and stood up to change into his Hogwarts uniform.

His hands trembled with excitement.

* * *

 **A/N: I'm aware that the potion class scene is not supposed to be like that. But I didn't want it to be their first potion class, so, using the script, I made some changes. In case you were confused, it was just another potion class happening a few weeks after the sorting.**

 **In this chapter, I tried to show the very mature, calculating side of Edmund. I hope that was apparent enough. If not, please leave a review with some suggestions. I'm going to elaborate more on the next chapter, but Edmund's curse is affecting Edmund's personality already, at this point of the story. He is still the JUST king, but now, his sense of justice is a bit detached from ethics. It's no longer merciful righteousness that he advocates but strict (cold) fairness, something like 'an eye for an eye'. He sees that Snape is unfair to Harry, but he also sees that the whole school is biased against his house as well, as mean/selfish as his housemates can be sometimes. He understands why Dumbledore and McGonagall favour Harry (he knows about Voldemore's anticipated return), but he still finds the bias repulsive in that Dumbledore, especially, is the headmaster of the whole school who should more neutral that anyone else in Hogwarts.**

 **In this story, Draco, who listened to Edmund, did not do anything to cause trouble for his house. So, he did not visit Hagrid's hut that night. He also doesn't get the detention. However, Norbert the dragon was still discovered, and Draco will still learn, at least get a glimpse, about Voldemort's return in his second year.**


	4. Chapter 2 and a half: Grey Kit

Chapter 2.5: Grey Kit

* * *

 **Hogwarts - 1992**

Edmund could sense the other boy's gaze on him, but he kept his own gaze out the window. Through a faint reflection on the window glass, Edmund could see the silhouette of Draco Malfoy steadily looking his way. The boy's light-coloured hair, like some sort of apparition, floated on the surface of the glass just above Edmund's own reflection.

He was aware that the Malfoy boy had become more relaxed around him over the year they had spent together. They made an odd couple in Hogwarts, the infamous pure-blood heir and the most unusual 'muggle-born' Slytherin, always walking side by side. _Friends_ , they thought the two of them were. But were they?

Soon after Edmund shook Malfoy's hand the first time, he realised that the boy's family name meant much more than he had imagined in the magical society. The fact that the boy handled the two other pure blood boys, much bigger than him, no less, as if they were to serve him, showed that the value of the name Malfoy was great. Edmund immediately decided he could use it to his advantage. And how wonderfully that worked. Truly. He had to face a few bullies who were idiotic enough for him to defeat on his own, but otherwise, his stay in the house of snakes was quite pleasant. He could definitely thank Malfoy for that. The boy was looking out for him, even if it was, seemingly, to please his father.

That was the other thing, wasn't it? Edmund spotted Malfoy's interaction with his father's letters, how the boy was eager to satisfy and terrified to disappoint the man. If Edmund could define his emotions as he somewhat used to before the curse, he would say what he was feeling for the boy was something akin to pity or sympathy. After all, had he himself not found through the hard path that life is more than that? Over the year he had spent with Malfoy, or as the boy allowed him to be called, _Draco_ , Edmund developed a faint sense of responsibility for the boy's morality and such. It wasn't a great sense, but nevertheless, it was there, a hint of Edmund's last bit of humanity. To keep it alive, Edmund would stick by Draco.

He remembered the day Draco had awakened a serious concern in regard to the progress of his curse.

...

" _Well, isn't it obvious?" He was saying. "Harry Potter's the child of light. He's supposed to be the_ good _. Dumbledore or Miner-" He caught himself quickly before continuing. "McGonagall will choose to coddle him until he's ready to fight against the_ true evil _."_

 _He hadn't even realised that he had said what he had said. It was only when Draco repeated after him, Edmund realised._

" _True evil? Who?"_

 _That had stilled him. He laid his fork down, his mind whirling with the image of the White Witch, every night invading his heart and soul. Aslan talked of the curse's consequences, but what would happen to him once the curse takes over his heart completely? Would he simply be the vessel of the Witch, or would it be his own cold, altered will that would destroy the world? In the end, Edmund could only try half a smile, though he doubted he made it look like a smile successfully. "We'll see, won't we?"_

...

And that had also been the day they began to call each other by their given names. The day they began their conspiracy against the darling of Hogwarts, Harry Potter. It had eventually led Edmund to face the muggle-born witch, Hermione Granger, in the girls' lavatory that night the troll entered the school.

...

 _Edmund had separated from Draco's group and was looking for Miss Granger after the Charms lecture. The conflict between the clever little girl and the_ _self-righteous Gryffindor boys was at its peak, and Edmund could sense that its resolution would mark the beginning of their unbreakable bond of a friendship. He had to infiltrate between the two now, or he would lose the chance forever. Luckily for him, Edmund soon heard a sniffling noise and some angry muttering from the girls' lavatory on the first floor. Not entering the toilets, Edmund, from the door, called out._

 _"Are you alright there?"_

 _Instantly, the sniffling stopped with a surprised gasp. A few seconds later, a very unhappy voice answered. "Go away!"_

 _"You know, Miss Granger,_ yielding _sometimes helps."_

 _There was a moment of silence._

 _"To do what?" The voice finally asked._

 _Smiling slyly, which he had been doing quite frequently recently, Edmund responded. "To make friends."_

 _There was no answer, merely a soft grunt._

 _Edmund pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket. It was the one with his initials "E.P." embroidered. He did not know this was how he would make it work, but evidently, luck seemed to be on his side tonight, for sure. He flicked his wand and muttered "Wingardium Leviosa" at the grey fabric. The handkerchief began to float forward, into the lavatory, and Edmund made sure to drop it in the stall that he was sure Miss Granger had been crying in. As soon as he let the spell loose and the kerchief dropped, there was a quiet gasp of surprise, not as offended as before. Then there was another gasp of recognition and then perhaps of realisation._

 _"You, you're-" The girl stuttered._

 _But before she could finish, Edmund spoke up. "The muggle-born in Slytherin."_

 _"I, I mean, I didn't mean to, I'm sorry, I-"_

 _"It's alright, Miss Granger." Edmund did his best to lace his every word with care and some sense of sincerity. "All I wanted to tell you was... that I know what it's like to want to feel like you belong somewhere."_

 _A small huff sounded from inside._

 _"Well, it looked as if you've made yourself belong in there alright. I've seen you with Malfoy."_

 _Edmund let out a sigh, audible but genuine enough. "I don't enjoy it, Miss Granger. But as I've said, yielding gives you friends."_

 _A voice full of disdain replied. "I don't need friends so desperately."_

 _"I did," Edmund retorted. "Do you know how it was to have been sorted into Slytherin when you're from some nameless muggle family? I had to survive. Fortunately, Malfoy somehow felt merciful and found me a good toy. But what about you? You're in a house where you can make genuine friends, Miss Granger. You only have to step down a little from the pedestal, and you'll see that."_

 _There were no words in return. Edmund, nodding in satisfaction, walked away from the lavatory._

...

Later he heard that the Granger girl had lost some points for her house because she had acted out against the troll despite a very clear command from the professors that students were not to engage with the beastly creature. From the amiable change in the relationship among the three troublesome Gryffindors, Edmund knew Hermione Granger had sacrificed something to save the faces of Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. It meant that she took his advice, which, in turn, meant that she tacitly agreed to give him a new perspective, beside the one that all Slytherins, especially those who hung out with Malfoy, were awful.

Since Edmund could not fathom accurately exactly when the two sides of war would definitively split and make enemies of each other, he had to work fast to worm his way into the trio. This would be the year to do that, he supposed. The faster the better. That would perhaps, possibly give him time to change the light's opinion regarding Draco Malfoy, an offspring of one of the darkest. Once Potter's group trusted Edmund fully, they would be ready to accept the possibility that Draco Malfoy could be on the side of the good.


	5. Chapter 3: Charming

Chapter 3: Charming

* * *

 **Hogwarts Library - Fall 2012**

In a quiet, deserted corner, a boy with raven hair and a girl with untamed, brown hair sat together side by side at a desk near the window. They worked separately, scribbling on a parchment with different books open before them. It was a ritual that they had begun since the first day of their second year, the two most peculiar muggle-borns of Hogwarts uniting together albeit secretly. Hermione Granger gave a sideway glance toward the boy next to her, as surreptitiously as she could, keeping up her pretense at assiduity as her hand continued to move busily across the parchment with the feathered pen. Edmund Pevensie seemingly did not notice her glance as he kept at his own assignment. There was a certain deadly, or unearthly, calm about the boy that unnerved Hermione at times, just as now. As the sunlight shone on his light-coloured skin, Edmund looked more of a mythical figure than human (or wizard). Something like an elf or a wooden spirit, as he was dressed in Slytherin green. If the sun had shone any more brightly on him, Hermione believed that she would have been able to see through his skin.

Suddenly, Edmund stopped writing and scoffed. Startled, Hermione asked. "What?"

Edmund with an unamused semi-scowl answered. "I just realised that it's an absolute waste of time taking notes on this book."

Hermione's own eyes sparkled with amusement and admittedly slight contempt. She rather liked their new professor. "What's wrong with the book?"

"More like, what's wrong with _him_. He is completely enamoured by himself and fantasizes too much." Remarked Edmund, the distaste more apparent than before, as if saying his thought out loud made it even more repulsive.

"What do you mean?" She attempted to argue.

"I mean," Edmund replied, his face unchanged but somehow the meaning of 'how could you not know?' surfacing anew, "this book is but a fictional self-praise, and I've read better fiction than this."

"Oh?" Said Hermione, her mind somewhat agreeing to Edmund's criticism of their new Defense against Dark Arts professor, Gilderoy Lockhart, but unwilling to admit defeat. "Such as?" She challenged.

Edmund raised his brow as if to say 'really?'. "Miss Granger, _anything_ would be a better read than this." He commented.

Hermione internally scoffed at his insistence in calling her _Miss_ Granger. She tried, but it seemed that there was no way of convincing the boy to just call her Granger or Hermione. But, regardless, she was now genuinely curious. "No, but what would you prefer to read, really?"

At this point, Edmund had pushed Lockhart's books away from him and was taking out a new set of books for Charms. He didn't glance up at her question, but he seemed to be thinking, considering some of the options he already had in mind. A few more seconds later, he finally answered. " _Lord Edgware Dies_ ***** , perhaps, at the moment."

"Agatha Christie?"

"That one, yes." He began to work busily over a piece of parchment once again.

Already too distracted to stop the conversation and also very interested in finding out more about the mysterious boy, Hermione forged on. "Is that the one with an actress who hired Poirot to prove her innocence because everyone thinks she's the one who murdered her husband, but it turned out that she _was_ the murderer?"

Sighing, Edmund placed his quill down, finally sparing a glance toward her way. "Yes." He said.

"Quite realistic, isn't it?" Wondered Hermione. "I mean, if so many people found her to be evil enough to kill her husband, then she must have been really that evil. She did kill three people in the book, right?"

That had made Edmund pause, hesitating only for a little while before responding. "She did. But, even in reality, sometimes, what seems to everyone is not what really is."

The way he contemplated his words before he said them, Hermione could see that this had to do with someone for Edmund. Himself? Or perhaps…

"Are you suggesting that Malfoy may not be a complete git?" She asked, half-kidding.

Yet, in response, Edmund held Hermione's gaze in all serious- and earnestness and said. "He _is_ a complete git, Miss Granger. What I'm suggesting is that he isn't _completely_ that."

To that, Hermione found herself mulling but remaining silent. Instead, she asked. "Have you a copy of the Christie book?"

"I'm afraid not. All my old belongings have been… removed."

Hermione crinkled her face in confusion, but seeing Edmund's face determined to not talk about it anymore, she did not ask for clarification. "Well, if you'd like to try _my_ favourite book at the moment, I could lend you it."

Edmund smirked a little at that. "If you mean _Standard Book of Spells_ , I already have a copy of my own."

Mock-gasping, Hermione made a playful grunting noise. She was actually genuinely surprised that Edmund was able to kid around. It made her surer than before that Edmund was a good person and potentially a good friend. She could trust him, possibly. "No, my favourite book is not a course book, thank you. It's _Catch-22_ by Joseph Heller."

An undefinable look passed over the boy's face. Something akin to confusion but not quite. "When was it published?" He asked.

"I believe… in the 1960s? I'm not sure. But I know my copy was released in 1962."

Edmund grimaced. His grimace seemed so unusually tragic that Hermione was certain he was about to decline her offer. But, the next moment, he simply nodded. "Lend me it, then."

...

And that was how Hermione found herself in the Great Hall writing to her mother to send her that copy of _Catch-22_ she devoured over the summer and how a few days later, she received a rectangular parcel with glee. Harry and Ron looked at her and her package with curiosity, as she unwrapped and revealed the book.

"What's that, Hermione?" Asked Harry.

"It's a book," Hermione replied simply, a soft, satisfied smile spreading on her lips.

"Yes," Ron said as he rolled his eyes, "but what's it for? It doesn't look like the ones you read for study."

"It's… a gift." Hermione replied, deciding then that she would rather _give_ the book to Edmund than just lend it, which was a surprise even to herself in that she was usually very possessive of her books.

"For…?" Ron asked. It was apparent in his voice that he hoped the thick book wasn't for him. Neither did Harry look so hopeful.

Hermione huffed in slight irritation. "Not you two, for sure!"

Instantly lightening up, his worries gone, Harry asked. "Then who's it for?"

At that, Hermione hesitated. Her two friends did not know of her acquaintance with Edmund yet. They were sure to be against it if they ever found out. But then, if it weren't for Edmund, Hermione would have never stood up for Harry and Ron that night of the Troll attack and the three of them would have never become friends. They owed it to him, even if they weren't aware of it. Also, Hermione did not want to lie to them. So she answered truthfully.

"It's for Edmund."

First, there was a look of confusion from both Harry and Ron. The confusion soon turned into realisation and shock, or perhaps wrath.

" _The_ Edmund? Edmund Pevensie?" Ron yelled in whispers, his eyes searching the said figure from the table across the room where all the snakes nested.

Harry, equally aghast, looked behind Hermione at the Slytherins' table as well. He followed Ron in whispering furiously. "He's a Malfoy follower, Hermione! Are you insane?"

Deeply offended by her friends' apparent distrust for her judgment of character, Hermione huffed more loudly this time and argued in an equally, if not more, enraged whispers. "He's a _friend_! And, no, I'm not insane! He's a muggle-born as I am, and he's been kind enough to me _before_ you two decided to make friends of me."

However, Ron, more so than Harry, still remained unconvinced. "He's probably planning something bad, and I'm sure Malfoy's behind it!"

Suddenly reminded of her conversation with Edmund the other day in the library, Hermione instantly smacked Ron's fork-holding hand. "Don't you dare! Just because he's a Slytherin and close with Malfoy doesn't mean he's a bad person. Do you two have no faith in me? I've actually talked to him, you know."

Ron moved his hand with an 'ouch', but while he nursed his injured hand, Harry stepped in, carrying on the argument. "But, Hermione, you know how it goes. There hasn't been a person who's both a Slytherin and a blood purist that has gone good."

Hermione grunted. "And it looks like there hasn't been a person who's a Gryffindor that doesn't have prejudice toward a Slytherin."

Both Harry and Ron immediately protested. "Wait, come on, that's not fair!"

"As if what you've said is fair. Edmund is not even a blood purist. He's a _muggle-born_ , remember? Just like me?" Replied Hermione.

"But he follows Malfoy! The ultimate blood purist of Hogwarts!" Said Ron.

Changing her technique a bit, Hermione softened her tone. "Think, Ron. He's a muggle-born sorted into Slytherin. What do you think he had to do to survive?"

Ron stayed silent for a moment. "You think he's sucking up to Malfoy because he doesn't want to be bullied?" He said as he glanced toward the boy of their conversation again. Pevensie's face was impassive even as Malfoy and his meaner chums were cackling at some joke, likely a cruel one as usual. The boy did not look amused, and he certainly did not look as if he was bothered to please Malfoy. In fact, it appeared that it was Malfoy and the others who were trying to make Pevensie smile a little. The Slytherins around him seemed to be in some kind of competition to amuse him. Ron returned his glance to his own table. "That doesn't look like he's sucking up."

Hermione turned her head to see for herself what Ron had seen. When she witnessed what was going on, she frowned. But she wasn't too surprised. She remembered what he had said about Malfoy in the library. "Edmund's clever. He probably has Malfoy and his idiots wrapped around his finger."

"Well, just don't come crying to us when he turns out evil. Right now, I'm reserving my right to say 'told you so'." Said Ron as he resumed his eating process.

In exasperation, Hermione let out yet another huff, but she ignored her two friends and began rewrapping the book with care.

* * *

"I got it!" Shouted Draco excitedly as he entered the quiet lounge with Edmund as its only occupant. "I'm the Seeker for Slytherin!"

Edmund looked up from the book he had been, the one he had received from Hermione earlier that day. The lower side of his face was still concealed by the book, but his eyes seemed to be mirthful enough for Draco's accomplishment. "Well done, Draco." He remarked.

Marching into the lounge triumphantly, Draco plopped himself down on the couch by Edmund's side, a satisfactory sigh escaping him at the same time. "That'll make Father proud."

"Yes, well, you've worked hard for it," Edmund commented. He remembered Draco discretely practicing flying on his broom at night during the first year. Draco had also written to him over the summer that he had been practicing on a newer broom. He was clearly determined to make up for the disappointment his father had felt from the fact that Harry Potter made a lasting accomplishment of becoming the youngest Seeker in Hogwarts's history. "Go ahead, then. Write to him." He said.

"I'm going to." Said Draco, as if a bit insulted to be told what to do when he already knew what to do. "But, first, I'm gonna rest a bit. I'm absolutely knackered from all that work."

Then, to Edmund's complete surprise, Draco lied down, placing his head on Edmund's lap. So surprised was Edmund, he stayed still in stupefaction until the other boy fell asleep, his breaths becoming steady and silent. What confused Edmund the most was the fact that he couldn't decide whether it was a horrifying surprise or a pleasant one. He looked down at the boy's sleeping face angled toward the rest of the room. Edmund felt a slight stirring inside, a stirring too faint for him to define where it came from, and as he sat there with one hand holding a book and another now placed on Draco's rhythmically rising and falling chest, Edmund could only hope that Draco would wake up before anyone could see them like so.

* * *

The first Saturday of September, after the whole Lockhart's pixies fiasco, Edmund was sitting in the courtyard reading _Catch-22_ once more, having already finished it once and admired its masterful writing. Near him were Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger, behaving not particularly notably. Then he heard the heavy thumping of multiple feet approaching and, looking up, found the red robes of Gryffindor Quidditch players entering the area. Oliver Wood was leading the bunch, excitedly sharing something with them, until a group of green robes entered the same area from the opposite direction. "Uh oh, I smell trouble." He heard Weasley comment, and as much he was appalled by it, he found himself agreeing with him.

"Clear out, Flint!" Wood yelled, heatedly. "I booked the pitch for Gryffindor today."

Marcus Flint, a rather trollish Slytherin Captain, merely smirked. "Easy, Wood. I've got a note." He handed a rolled parchment to Wood.

Wood snatched it from Flint's hand, and as he did, Weasley and Hermione jogged up to the scene and joined their team.

"'I, Professor Severus Snape, do hereby give the Slytherin team permission to practice today, owing to the need to train their new Seeker.'" Wood looked up. "You've got a new Seeker? Who?"

Edmund saw Draco from the back of the crowd step forward.

"Malfoy?" Gasped out Harry Potter in disbelief.

"That's right. And that's not all that's new this year…" Edmund heard Draco say. He couldn't see the boy's face, but he very well knew that Draco was smirking smugly at the moment. Then, as one, the seven Slytherins all held out brand-new gleaming broomsticks.

Ron, stunned as all the other Gryffindors were, spoke in something like a trance. "Those are Nimbus Two Thousand and Ones. How'd you get those?" He asked with his eyes trained on the broomsticks.

"A gift from Draco's father." Replied Flint. Beside him, Draco sniggered before he added, "That's right, Weasley. You see, unlike some, my father can afford to buy the best."

Hermione was fast on her friend's defense, or more like offense. "At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in. They got in on pure talent."

Edmund inhaled sharply. Seeing Draco step up to confront the girl, he quickly put his book down and briskly walked toward them. He knew Draco was about to say something that would at least partly ruin their carefully organized plan regarding the Potter trio. So, before Draco could say something, Edmund was there.

"And so did Draco, Miss Granger." He said sternly. He stood between Draco and Hermione and put his hand up behind his back to calm Draco down. With his eyes set on the startled Gryffindor girl, Edmund continued. "I believe the gift was endowed _after_ he's become the Seeker, as congratulation from his father, who was generous and wise enough to gift his teammates as well so that no ill feelings like _envy_ ," he glanced Weasley's way pointedly, "could be sprung. As a witness to all the effort Draco had put into becoming the team's Seeker, I'm insulted to hear such false assumption and accusation of injustice, especially from you, Miss Granger."

Weasley, much provoked by Edmund's glance at him earlier, spoke up. "Well, why," he began, stumbling on his words, "it's not like there's justice in what they're doing right now! Obviously, they got the note from Snape for today because they knew our team was going to practice today!"

An unamused and unimpressed expression, which was quickly becoming his trademark, surfaced on Edmund's face as he turned around to face Weasley.

"If McGonagall wrote a note to excuse the Slytherin team so that the Gryffindors can train Mr. Potter, would you have complained, Mr. Weasley?" He asked.

There was silence, as not only the Weasley boy but also the other Gryffindor players reflected on Edmund's question.

Draco then triumphantly sneered at Weasley. "Now, bugger off, Weasley and the rest of you."

This, in turn, however, only angered the other boy, who exclaimed "You bugger off, Malfoy!" as he whipped out his wand from his robe. Hermione tried to stop him, but Weasley was already aiming the taped wand at Draco. "Eat slugs!"

However, with a _pfft_ , a bolt of green light scissored out the wrong end, hitting Ronald Weasley himself in the stomach. He dropped to the grass, his face distorted in pain or else. Hermione ran to his side.

"Ron! Say something!"

The boy tried to, per her command, but when he opened his mouth, he only belched. Hermione drew back as a trio of slugs dribbled out of Weasley's mouth. At this sight, Slytherin boys crowed with laughter, excepting Edmund who stood there watching unsympathetically. The boy had brought it upon himself. Angrily, Weasley rose, just to belch again, and in the end, Potter and Hermione had to usher the boy away, seemingly planning to visit the gamekeeper, Hagrid.

* * *

By the day of the first Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Slytherin, things were as tense as they could be. Filch's cat Mrs. Norris was found petrified, starting a rumour that "the Chamber of Secrets" had been opened by the Heir of Slytherin. Also, Hermione no longer showed up to the corner of the library to see Edmund.

Draco had frowned at that news. "Well, does that mean our plan's ruined?"

Edmund shrugged. "We'll have to see. There still might be time to mend whatever's broken."

This seemed to cause the boy to ponder about the other day's incident. "Why did you confront her if your goal was to make her trust you?"

Edmund met Draco's gaze. "She was invoking a rather immediate need to address injustice."

"You didn't have to interfere. I would've addressed it on my own alright." Draco commented somewhat as a complaint. Part of him was glad, however, that Edmund's preference seemed to align close to his affairs.

"I know you could," assured Edmund. "But you were about to say something abominable. There would have been no reparable measure once _you_ say that word out loud."

Draco looked down in a bit of shame. So, Edmund knew. He knew that Draco was going to say _mudblood_.

Watching Draco's face turning dark, Edmund placed a hand on his shoulder. "She angered you. I understand that you didn't really mean it. Just try to use a different insult next time."

That had made Draco smile a little and nod. And now the boy was in a green Quidditch robe flying on his broom before Edmund. Slytherin was beating Gryffindor by sixty points at the moment. Across his tower, Edmund could see both Snape and Lucius Malfoy sitting next to each other and following Draco as he flew around looking for the Golden Snitch. It was then when a bludger began to chase after Harry Potter. The speed and force with which it raced after Potter was murderous. Clearly, someone was out to wound, if not kill, the Boy Who Lived. Edmund looked toward Snape and Lucius, but neither of them seemed to have any idea what was happening.

Meanwhile, Harry Potter had somehow spotted the Golden Snitch and was chasing after it, as Draco followed suit. With the skills the boy had achieved through numerous practices and, of course, with the latest version of Nimbus, Draco began to gain upper hand in the race as he neared the small golden object faster than Potter. However, soon, the mad bludger began to gain speed, and it flew ahead of both Draco and Potter. A few seconds later it arched back toward the two Seekers, aimed to hit at least one of them. Potter quickly moved aside, but Draco, whose sight had been blocked by Potter's flying robe, was hit directly in the chest and flew off of his broomstick. Edmund felt his heart drop as Draco lay unconscious on the grass and, confused, raised his hand to where his heart was. He couldn't feel anything per usual, not a beat, and feeling silly, he put down his hand and focused on seeing whether Draco was safely carried out and was cared for. The bludger, nevertheless, was not done with its job, which was clearly to injure Harry Potter, as opposed to anyone else, and continued to chase the Gryffindor Seeker. Potter dodged the flying ball as long as he could, but in the end, he was hit on his forearm and, too, fell out of his broomstick.

And how horribly it all went afterward. Lockhart, in vain attempt to fix Potter's arm, only ended up deboning it, and Potter was carried to the infirmary. Now, two rivals of Hogwarts were to share a room in the hospital.

 ***** _ **Lord Edgware Dies**_ **was published in 1933. Edmund read it before the Narnian events.**


	6. Chapter 4: Turning Tides

Chapter 4: Turning Tides

* * *

 **Hogwarts, 1992**

There was no time to mourn for his injuries, Draco found. Not too many days after the Quidditch match, in fact, just a day later, Colin Creevey was found petrified with his fried machinery in hand. Of course, this only intensified the rumours regarding the heir of Slytherin and his discovery of the Chamber of Secrets or whatever, and as the unofficial Slytherin prince, Draco was attracting a lot of, for once, unwanted attention. Fellow students of Hogwarts were busy either trading amulets and talismans for protection or avoiding Draco and any of his mates. And Draco's "mates" included Edmund Pevensie. In less than 30 hours, two of the most adored boys of Hogwarts (at least, by their looks) became the most plagued existence instead.

"It's quite ridiculous." Draco complained, as he once again laid his head on Edmund's lap. It was becoming a habit of his. Whether Edmund approved of it, Draco wasn't sure as the boy never did say anything on the matter. Draco did notice that the first time he ventured to lay his head on the boy's lap Edmund's face was as closest it could get to a form of shock. In truth, Draco himself wasn't sure what came over him to behave such way, but once done, there was no undoing it. So, he went with it, one of the traditional Malfoy tactics, pretending there was nothing abnormal, saving face as he was taught to by his parents.

"Fear can do that." Replied Edmund calmly, per usual, reading a book and not minding Draco's head on his thighs at all, or appearing to not mind. "It's rather flattering, actually," he added, "for them to think we, mere second years, could perform such high level of dark magic. We could probably wriggle our fingers at them, and they'll run like a headless cock."

That had made Draco snort. Edmund rarely spoke in so many words, and even then, he was never a man of vulgar words. To hear the word 'cock' from Edmund's mouth raised all kinds of funny and unfamiliar sensations in Draco. Shaking out them, however, Draco smirked. "Well, I'm not exactly against the idea of me being the heir of Slytherin."

Edmund hummed in a flat dulcet tone. Draco couldn't tell whether the boy was agreeing or disagreeing with the sentiment, but he liked the sound of it either way. It was comforting, he secretly admitted. He turned his head to face Edmund.

"Are you staying here?" He asked.

A questioning look of 'Why do you ask?' (or it could also have been 'Why do you care?') appeared on Edmund's face, but the boy answered Draco nonetheless. "Yes." A bit of bitterness or sadness surfaced as Edmund added, "always."

Draco wished to ask why that was, but he felt the dungeon air becoming even colder than usual and immediately shut up. His housemate, Draco learned overtime, had some unusual ability or affiliation with climate. Whenever Edmund was in a bad mood, the air surrounding him would turn frigid, and at its worst, frost would start to form on the objects near him. So, instead of asking why, Draco simply nodded and commented. "I think I'm staying, too. Have to catch up with Charms, and I can't concentrate at home."

Edmund stayed silent, but the cold had dissipated. Draco smiled at his small victory as he spotted a small smile appear on Edmund's lips.

* * *

About a week before the end of the term, the two Slytherin boys sat together at the back of the room as their potions professor, as usual, prowled through the room and made waspish remarks at the Gryffindor students. Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Ronald Weasley were whispering among themselves in the most suspicious way, and it was certain that they were plotting for some more misadventures that would somehow ultimately win them house points.

"Crabbe says he's seen the three of them going in and out of Moaning Myrtle's bathroom." Draco whispered, his face nearing Edmund's.

Edmund crinkled his face just a bit, between his brows, as he fell into his thoughts. Draco returned to his original position and went on with his potion brewing. He knew Edmund often needed quiet time for himself to come up with an answer to a difficult question. Still, he couldn't help but give a sideway glance toward the boy, curious and growing impatient to know what Edmund thought of the situations. He found the other boy intensely staring at the Potter's table. Harry Potter was ducking low, doing something in concealment, until there were sparks. Draco watched as Potter flicked the sparks toward Goyle's cauldron, seconds of the moment seemingly slowing down and lengthening to hours. Goyle's attempt at the Swelling Solution immediately exploded, splashing on everyone within close proximity of the cauldron. If it were not for Edmund's swift action, covering them both with his robe, Draco was sure he would have gotten the solution on his face, and that would not have been a pretty sight. Under the shield of his cloak, Edmund whispered, "it's a distraction."

He pulled down his robe, which was smoking a little from its contact with the solution bits, and looked round the room. His eyes were trained on the Granger girl. "There," Edmund whispered, "the front of her robe is bulging."

And it was, indeed, Draco found. "What's she got there, you think?" He asked.

"What else is there to steal here? Those are probably Snape's private collections." Edmund commented, unamused.

"You mean they stole potion supplies from _Snape_ 's office? What for?" Remarked Draco, in near admiration of the Gryffindors' recklessness.

Edmund exhaled sharply. "They're trying to make a potion is what. We may have to check with Snape to see what they're trying to brew." He said as he glanced at their professor who was now knowingly glaring at Potter. "Snape could likely tell what ingredients they took and what those things can make."

* * *

However, the two of them never really had the chance to talk to their professor, as they couldn't see him for another week when they spotted him as a "demonstrative" assistant to Gilderoy Lockhart's duelling club. And they missed the opportunity to talk to him that night as well, the two were too occupied by the newly revealed fact that Harry Potter is a Parselmouth. Unbeknownst to Draco was another fact revealed that Edmund was apparently able to understand Parseltongue as well. He wasn't sure he could speak it, but he understood Potter's words to the serpent. He was slightly startled to find out that Draco couldn't understand what was said and that everyone else thought Potter was egging it on to attack Justin Fitch-Fletchley. Edmund couldn't be sure what this meant, but if everyone around him were so afraid of a Parselmouth, it couldn't be too good, he concluded. He decided to keep his own ability a secret.

Draco had become incredibly sour about the whole growing accusation about Harry Potter being the Slytherin Heir. He couldn't believe the possibility of Potter taking the title, once again. And it all became far worse when the said Fitch-Fletchley boy was found petrified with the ghost Nearly Headless Nick. To all, Harry Potter was unofficially the Heir using his fanged servant to attack the muggle-borns in the school. Edmund could tell that Potter himself was not thrilled about the situation, but without any more chances to clear himself, the end of term approached, leaving only a handful of students at Hogwarts to celebrate Christmas at the castle.

"I can't believe they think _he_ is the Heir to Slytherin!" Said Draco for what felt as the hundredth time. Having heard it so many times, Edmund did not bother to respond.

Not so differently from their other leisure times, Draco was lying on Edmund's lap as Edmund read a book, this time Snape's potion book. It wasn't exactly _Catch-22_ , but it was worth the read. Also, Edmund was hoping to figure out just what kind of potion the Gryffindor trio could be brewing in the recent turn of events. Ah, hope, that was a funny word to use for him, Edmund thought.

…

At that moment, the three Gryffindors in Edmund's mind were discussing their plan to infiltrate the dungeon and get a confession out of Draco Malfoy. "We still need a bit of the people you're changing into," said Hermione matter-of-factly, as though she were sending them to the supermarket for laundry detergent. "And obviously, it'll be best if you can get something of Crabbe's and Goyle's; they're Malfoy's best friends, he'll tell them anything. And we also need to make sure the real Crabbe and Goyle can't burst in on us while we're interrogating him. I've got it all worked out," she went on smoothly, ignoring Harry's and Ron's stupefied faces. She held up two plump chocolate cakes. "I've filled these with a simple Sleeping Draught. All you have to do is make sure Crabbe and Goyle find them. You know how greedy they are, they're bound to eat them. Once they're asleep, pull out a few of their hairs and hide them in a broom closet."

Harry and Ron looked incredulously at each other.

"Hermione, I don't think -"

"That could go seriously wrong -"

But Hermione had a steely glint in her eye not unlike the one Professor McGonagall sometimes had. "The potion will be useless without Crabbe's and Goyle's hair," she said sternly. "You do want to investigate Malfoy, don't you?"

"What about Pevensie? I'd say he's Malfoy's best friend." Harry suggested.

Ron, nodding, agreed. "Yeah, sometimes it looks like it's Malfoy who's sticking by Pevensie, you know?"

They were both thinking that they would rather become a Pevensie than either of the trolly pure blood Slytherins. But Hermione shook her head. "He's too clever. We won't be able to trick him on time."

So begrudgingly, they followed her order and carried out the assignment. Soon, they were exiting Myrtle's bathroom, somehow without Hermione, as Crabbe and Goyle.

…

Not shortly after, Harry-Goyle and Ronald-Crabbe found Draco Malfoy and Edmund Pevensie walking toward the dungeon from the Great Hall. They just had an encounter with Percy Weasley, the prefect and Ron's brother, and was looking to escape him. Seeing Malfoy strolling toward them with Pevensie in his tow with his head buried in a book, not quite unlike Hermione, Harry, for the first time perhaps, was pleased by the boy's existence.

"There you are," the Slytherin boy drawled, looking at them. "Have you two been pigging out in the Great Hall all this time? I've been looking for you; I want to show you something really funny."

Then Malfoy glanced witheringly at Percy. "And what are _you_ doing down here, Weasley?" He sneered.

Pevensie took his eyes off of the book he was reading, which had been their potions coursebook, and glanced at Percy. Their prefect grew outraged.

"You want to show a bit more respect to a school prefect!" he said. "I don't like your attitude!"

Malfoy simply sneered and motioned for Harry and Ron to follow him. Harry almost said something apologetic to Percy but caught himself just in time. He and Ron hurried after Pevensie and Malfoy, who said as they turned into the next passage, "That Peter Weasley -"

"Percy," Ron corrected him automatically.

"Whatever," said Malfoy as he carelessly walked on, but Pevensie paused a second glancing backward. Harry could hear Ron gulping nervously. To their relief, Pevensie continued to walk, following closely behind Malfoy as the boy kept talking. "I've noticed him sneaking around a lot lately. And I bet I know what he's up to. He thinks he's going to catch Slytherin's heir single-handed."

Malfoy gave a short, derisive laugh. Harry and Ron quickly exchanged excited looks.

The Slytherin boys stopped by a stretch of bare, damp stone wall.

"What's the new password again?" Malfoy said to Harry.

"Er -" said Harry.

"Oh, yeah - pure-blood!" said Malfoy, not listening, and a stone door concealed in the wall slid open. Malfoy marched through it, Pevensie behind him, and Harry and Ron followed them. Pevensie gave them another glance, which was quickly unnerving them both. Whatever Hermione was saying about Pevensie not being an evil person could be a huge miscalculation on her part, thought Harry.

As they entered the Slytherin common room, which was a long, low underground room with rough stone walls and ceiling from which round, greenish lamps were hanging on chains, Malfoy motioned them all, Pevensie, Harry and Ron, to sit on a empty chairs set back from the fire crackling under an elaborately carved mantelpiece. "Wait here," he said, "I'll go and get it; my father's just sent it to me -"

Wondering what Malfoy was going to show them, Harry and Ron sat down, doing their best to look at home. Pevensie was watching their every move, eyeing them part curiously and part suspiciously. Thankfully, Malfoy came back a minute or so later, holding what looked like a newspaper clipping. He thrust it under Ron's nose. "That'll give you a laugh." He said.

Harry heard Pevensie sighing from the side as he saw Ron's eyes widen in shock. He read the clipping quickly, gave a very forced laugh, and handed it to Harry. It had been clipped out of the _Daily Prophet_ , an article about how Arthur Weasley, Ron's father, was fined for crashing an enchanted car. It included Lucius Malfoy's derogatory comment on the whole event, calling for Mr. Weasley's resignation.

"Well?" said Malfoy impatiently as Harry handed the clipping back to him. "Don't you think it's funny?"

"Ha, ha," said Harry bleakly.

Pevensie was shaking his head behind them all. He folded the corner of the page he was reading and shut his book, looking up to face Malfoy. "You should really try not to be so vile, Draco."

That caught Harry and Ron's attention, as Malfoy seemed to cringe at Pevensie's comment. He said in a manner near to muttering, "That's why I'm showing it to Crabbe and Goyle, not you. I've got to let off some steam once in a while." He turned to face Harry and Ron and said scornfully, "Arthur Weasley loves Muggles so much he should snap his wand in half and go and join them. You'd never know the Weasleys were pure-bloods, the way they behave."

Ron's - or rather, Crabbe's - face was contorted with fury.

"What's up with you, Crabbe?" snapped Malfoy. Pevensie was laying his eyes on Ron as well, his face unreadable and frightening all the more.

"Stomachache," Ron managed to grunt out.

"Well, go up to the hospital wing then. You look as if you're about to have an aneurysm, but then, I guess you wouldn't want to what with it being filled with _them_." Said Malfoy, snickering. "You know, I'm surprised the _Daily Prophet_ hasn't reported all these attacks yet," he went on thoughtfully, " I suppose Dumbledore's trying to hush it all up. He'll be sacked if it doesn't stop soon. Father's always said old Dumbledore's the worst thing that's ever happened to this place." Then Malfoy stopped himself from continuing, glancing at Pevensie behind him, who only returned the gaze with a brow raised. He pressed his lips together at Pevensie's face and sighing, plopped down on the empty chair beside Pevensie. "I'm just tired of it, is all." He continued, his manner less provoking than before, more tamed. Ron and Harry shared a glance.

"Saint Potter," Malfoy scoffed, his tone clearly mocking. "And now they think he's Slytherin's heir!"

Harry and Ron waited with bated breath: Malfoy was surely second away from telling them it was him - but then before the boy could say anything else, Pevensie grabbed his arm, stopping him with his mouth open midway.

"I'm quite done in tonight. Draco?" Pevensie spoke, his voice but a gentle breath as he said Malfoy's name.

To Harry and Ron's absolute amazement (and admittedly, horror), Malfoy's eyes softened as he looked toward Pevensie and nodded compliantly. "Alright, I'll stop."

Pevensie smiled a little at that, but as the two of them gathered themselves and stood to leave, he landed a piercing glare on Harry and Ron. He laid his hand on Malfoy's shoulder. "You go ahead. I think I can help Crabbe here feel better."

The near benevolent tone he used to address Malfoy while he continued to glared at them was completely jarring for Harry. It was terrifying, and he found himself wishing Malfoy would stay there with them just to make sure Pevensie wouldn't murder the both of them then and there in the dungeon.

"I'm pretty sure he'll feel better on his own after a trip or two to the loo." Muttered Malfoy, almost like a child.

"I've got to practice charms. Who's better to practice on than Crabbe or Goyle?" Said Pevensie with the slightest, smallest smirk creeping up the corner of his lips.

While both Harry and Ron internally shook their heads in horror, Malfoy chuckled and nodded. "Alright, but don't play with them for too long." Then he walked toward one of the corridors assumably leading to bed chambers.

"So…" Pevensie began as he pulled out his wand, a white supposedly wooden thing with what looked like crystal bits embedded on it. Harry hadn't seen a wand like that before. He hadn't known Pevensie's wand looked like it, either, as he never paid attention to him too much. "What shall I do with you? Mr. Weasley…" he glanced at Ron and then Harry, "and Mr. Potter."

"Ho!" said Ron, shuddering.

Pevensie looked at him, as did Harry. Ron's hair was turning red. His nose was also slowly lengthening - their hour was up, Ron was returning back into himself, and from the look of horror he was suddenly giving Harry, he must be, too.

"Well, it looks like I didn't need my wand after all." Said Pevensie, even as he carefully aimed the wand at the two of them. He nodded as he said, "It was Polyjuice."

Harry and Ron slowly raised their hands in surrender. One thing they knew in common about Edmund Pevensie was that they should never cross him. He was as clever as Hermione (perhaps even more, though they would never tell Hermione that) and as cunning as Malfoy, or so they believed from their short encounters with him, especially the one that ended with Ron vomiting slugs.

"What do you want?" Pevensie asked coldly.

Mustering his Gryffindor courage, Harry ventured to open his mouth. "Who's the heir?" He said in a stronger voice than he intended, and he was slightly satisfied.

Pevensie seemed to pause at that. He hesitated only a moment before he remarked. "Not Draco."

Ron, forgetting how compromising the current situation was for them, heatedly argued. "'Course you'll say that. How can we believe you?"

" _Silencio_ ," said Pevensie as he waved his wand at Ron. He began to immediately protest, but Harry could not hear his voice.

Pevensie turned to Harry. "If it's information you need to take care of the situation, here's some. I hope you're more reasonable than him," he nodded toward Ron's way who had turned red on the face with anger. "Draco's not the heir. Though he wants to help whoever it is. I can tell you what I heard about the Chamber from his father's letter. It was opened once, fifty years ago, before Lucius's time. Things had been kept quiet, not much to say about it really, but there had been one death, a Muggle-born."

"Do you know if the person who opened the Chamber last time was caught?" Harry asked.

"He was expelled," answered Pevensie, quite faithfully, before he added, "supposedly." Then, looking around, he flicked his wand toward the exit of the common room. "You should leave now. Take your friend - he's not going to stay quiet forever - and _leave_."

Harry grimly nodded as he roughly ushered Ron, who was still protesting, toward the door. Before he stepped out, however, he turned around to face Pevensie once more. "Why are you doing this?" He asked.

Pevensie raised his brow in question. "Do what?"

"Helping Malfoy. You know he's not a good person." Harry spat out harshly.

"He's not a good _boy_. Doesn't mean he'll grow to be the same kind of man." In a deadly calm voice Pevensie answered.

"You think he'll change?" challenged Harry.

"You _all_ change, whether you like it or not, Mr. Potter. You'll need to learn to judge others as you do yourself before then." Pevensie turned around and walked away into the darkness of the corridor.

Harry stood there with puzzled Ron, as he mulled over the words in his head. He walked out of the dungeon with mind swirling with so many different thoughts, concerning the Chamber of Secrets, the Slytherin's heir, Draco Malfoy, and Edmund Pevensie. It was only after a long while that he realised that the boy had said "you" instead of "we."


End file.
